Shall we dance?
by sam carter 1013
Summary: Or four times Peter and Olivia talk about dancing, and the one they finally danced.


Spoilers: Up to "Os."

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's notes: I have been trying to write a "Five times…" fic like forever but the ideas I came up with never seemed like good enough, I came up with this one before "Entrada" and kept on tweaking it and I finally got to finish it, so I hope it's remotely good.

Unbeta, so pardon all the mistakes it sure has. Reviews?

Shall we dance?

I.

"Do you like dancing?"

Olivia looked up from the file she was reading, glasses on; Peter was causally leaning on the doorframe, coffee cup in hand; it smelled strong.

She was startled by the question, it sounded too out of the blue for two people who had only met for a month, and then she remembered John making the same question on the early days too, before he even asked her out, he had waited until Charlie had left the room and asked her, but in a different tone, casual but inquisitive, as if he had been genuinely interested on the answer, Peter sounded more curious, maybe just trying to make conversation; she had not been paying attention, but she could hear a record playing on the background; something from the forties.

She had never really been dancing with John, not when she was so... she stopped the train of thought, _he is a traitor, he betrayed his country, he betrayed me_, and the change of expression registered on her face because Peter looked ready to apologize, instead she just answered.

"No, not much really."

II.

"Dancing?"

"Yes, Elizabeth was quite good at it, she taught me; I always stepped on her feet."

Astrid smiled at the image; she could clearly see a younger Walter with his wife dancing to one of those songs he liked to listen so much; she smiled remembering her own dance classes.

"Do you dance Asterix?" Astrid didn't bother to correct Walter again; she just merely answered his question.

"I do, I used to dance when I was on high school, there was this Spanish-French teacher who came and taught a group of us, we would get extra credits for taking the class, I liked it."

"You see Peter, even Aspirin likes it; I don't understand why you refuse to take Agent Dunham dancing."

Peter, who was trying to run the test on the blood sample he was holding, looked at Walter.

"Why would I take Olivia dancing, Walter?"

"Because it would be fun!" he said is on that cheery tone Peter hated so much, Astrid just smiled, Peter glared at her.

"Don't encourage him."

"I don't." Astrid turned to keep an eye on the computers.

Walter started to hum something like sounded like _Someone to watch over me_ while Peter turned to look at Olivia's office; she was totally engrossed in whatever thing she was reading on her computer. It has been a month since her "car accident", there were still cuts on her face that hadn't completely heal and he could see her right hand shaking every now and then, even if she tried to hide it; she looks like he feels, death tired and too pale, but she is alive and that is what it counts.

For those horrifying hours where she had officially been declared death Peter had felt lost, he had wished for so many things, he had regretted so much and so he had promised to never be late for her again.

Realizing that you are in love with a person that has just been declared death can do a lot.

He hadn't seen his life pass through his eyes, but the relationship he could have had with her; hugs, kisses, dates… and so much more; dancing had been among his wishes, he wished he had taken her dancing, he wished he had made his move, but he had not been sure, he hadn't know if what he felt was just lust or love, he hadn't dare to ponder, but he was sure now, so sure that he was staying for her.

She looked again at Olivia, he was going to ask her out soon, maybe after she recovered completely, maybe dancing.

III.

Peter bolts from bed, the room dark and unfamiliar. Right, motel room, running away from Boston, from Walter, from Olivia, from the lies.

He looks at the night table and notices that only an hour has passed since he tried to sleep; tried, because what he has been doing for the last couple of days is trying; his back is throbbing again, time for medication; he sits on the bed and reaches out for the pills and bottled water.

What the hell was he dreaming about?

It was a weird dream, the lab was weird, Walter was weird; well, weirder than usual; Olivia was weird, even Gene was weird.

Gene had red, blue and yellow spots everywhere, Walter was on a wheelchair wearing an old suit, and Olivia... was she wearing a fedora? Was he?

He could recall the image as clear as it was a memory more than a dream; Olivia on a fourties style suit, heels and make up, her blonde hair in weird girly locks, and his attire was no different, old suit, he looked like an observer but in blue, and… where they dancing?

Peter looked at his left hand, he could clearly remember the touch of Olivia's waist beneath his hand, his heart fluttered and then hurt; she had lied to him, better to forget the weird dream.

He lied down on the bed again trying to go back to sleep, and despite his anger a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

IV.

It's the end of year FBI party and it's way too early for them to be in that family relationship they were in, but Broyles told them they had to be here, there were senators who needed to know that the money they have approved wasn't going nowhere, so to make a long story short, they have to make an appearance to the "formal" FBI party.

It was formal, which sucked because any of them felt like wearing anything more than they did, and the universe (this or the other one) had decided to give then the day off so there was no escape, and Peter was so not looking forward to go and shake a politician's hand and be gracious, specially not today, it had not been a happy Christmas at the Bishops.

Really, there was no way this was a good idea, until Peter saw Olivia.

It really took him by surprise mainly because she didn't look at all like _her_ out of her working clothes.

She was wearing a knee length, black dress, nothing special really, but for Peter she looked perfect; she had some make up on, but not much really, it still looked like Olivia, her hair in curly waves, the black heels completing the outfit, shoes he hadn't seen in her since their first year together.

Peter forgot how to breathe for a few minutes.

And yet she still had this frown, she didn't want to be here, not even for the five minutes required.

Olivia saw him across the room on his almost silver suit, no tie, and wondered if he had ever dressed this good for _her._

She approached them, because being with them; in whatever terms they were, it was better than mingle with FBI agents she didn't know, or worse, politicians.

"Hi."

"Hi." They all said at the same time, Walter was wearing a not-matching suit, and Astrid decided to wear a silver-blue knee length dress.

"Nice." Olivia said to Astrid.

"Thank you, you look very good too."

Peter was about to say something to her, really, it almost escaped his mouth, and then he stopped; there was no way that that would come out right.

Walter approached her with a glass of punch in his hand and offered it to her.

"Thanks Walter."

She took it and almost drank it in one big gulp not remembering where she was, she really wished for something stronger.

Walter was really the one making the whole chat, pointing out the decoration, the variety of food and then the music.

"Peter, why don't you ask Agent Dunham to dance?"

If looks could kill Walter would have dropped death.

"Walter…"

"So, this is Fringe Division?"

Broyles and Senator "some-name" decided to drop by at that exact time which saved both Peter and Olivia from the awkward situation Walter was putting them in; and in fact it did take the promised five minutes by Broyles. Olivia sends an apologetic smile to Broyles who still has to play politician for a while, but she knows they all can go now.

She can feel Peter looking at her so she looks the opposite direction and sees some couples dancing.

Olivia feels something in the middle of her chest, a pang of something, something that can be defined as pain. On those few days when she remembered who she was and fought to come back home, to him, her imagination went overboard and she started to see this images, like flashes before her eyes: stealing kisses in the lab, holding hands under tables, stolen make out sessions on one of the universities' cupboards, their silhouettes illuminated by the moonlight on her bedroom, dancing; the image had been quite prominent; she had wanted to come home so bad.

Peter sees her from a distance looking at the dance floor and think that maybe Walter's suggestion isn't so bad after all, at least she isn't carrying her gun right now; but then Olivia turns and looks at him, this horrible expression on her face; a cold emptiness in her usually sparkling green eyes, that contempt… that… utter disappointment.

He freezes mid step and looks at her trying to convey how sorry he still is; Olivia just looks to the floor and walks out of the room as fast as she can.

V.

Peter finds out that the street fair is still there; and he loves her childish enthusiasm on the car once she sees where they are going.

She is like a child, pointing out things she likes, smiling, eating every junk food they find; cotton candy (blue, not pink!), popcorn (she likes it plain), funnel cake (they eat the whole thing) and sorbets; he looks at her like she is gone mad, when she points out that in this weather is when they taste the better.

With so much sugar in her system she is starting to sound like Walter, the salesman looks at her weirdly too and gives her the sorbet.

"We should take Walter something."

Peter stops her in the middle of the crowd and kisses her, she tastes like berries; after the kiss Olivia looks at him for an explanation, and he gives her any, just takes her hand and keeps walking.

_She thought on taking something for Walter._

They stop at a shooting game, Olivia lets Peter win a stuffed animal for her (a cow that they, of course, name Gene), he is not such a bad shooter.

They get on the Ferris wheel and make out like a couple of teenagers; when they pass by the house of mirrors they just keep on walking.

It's almost six when they are walking back to the car, full of sugar, carrying souvenirs and food for Walter and Astrid when Peter spots the makeshift dance floor, it's getting colder so only a few couples are actually dancing but he cannot let this pass.

"C'mon."

Peter pulls at the hand he is holding while carrying the stuffed cow on the other.

"You are not serious."

"C'mon, it would be fun."

"Peter, I'm not good at dancing."

"I don't care if you leave bruises on my feet."

Of course he is not going to tell her he is any good either.

Peter gives her his disarming smile, the one she cannot resist even if she wants to, still giddy with the sugar rush she gives him a shy smile, one that reminds him of the first time she truly ask him to stay in her life; he is so happy he did.

Peter walks to the dance floor, Olivia just a step behind; he places all the stuff on their hands on a nearby spot and offers her his hand, Olivia takes it without hesitation, Peter walks them backwards until they are practically standing in the middle of the dance floor just as the last notes of "At last" can be listen.

They stand there facing each other, Olivia feels suddenly nervous and not sure where to put her hands; she thinks that maybe the last time she actually danced was when she was three, on Christmas Eve, when her mother was pregnant with Rachel and her father swung her around the house to some song by Etta James playing on the stereo.

Peter takes her hands and places them around his neck, then he places his hands around her waist.

"You don't even know if it is a slow song, it could be the Macarena."

He leaves out a snort before answering.

"It's slow, believe me."

Just as he says it the band on the side of the stage starts to play filling the ambience.

"Did you make that?"

Peter smiles like the proverbial Cheshire cat. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Peter stars to swing slowly from side to side looking into her eyes, smiling; she doesn't recognize the song at first until a few familiar notes play.

Her eyes widen in surprise and Peter waits for a second to see if it is good surprise or bad surprise; he is not trying to be masochistic or compare them, he just really likes the movie and the song, and he thinks it just fit them so well sometimes.

Olivia lets her arms go around Peter's waist, her head rests on his chest just above his heart while they swing to the music and she thinks about something.

House.

Home.

Safe house.

He is her safe house.

She hasn't felt safe in a very, very, _very _long while, but right now, in his arms, she does.

She hugs him tighter, burying her face in his pea coat, breathing him in and she feels Peter holding her tighter too.

They stand in the middle of the dance floor, people passing by, long after the song ends.

FIN


End file.
